


Space Between

by eiluned



Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Partners to Lovers, Partnership, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-17
Updated: 2012-12-17
Packaged: 2017-11-21 09:46:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/596303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eiluned/pseuds/eiluned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two people begin with space that separates them, but sometimes that space dwindles to nothing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Space Between

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the cottoncandy_bingo prompt: space. Thanks to chez_amanda, SidheRa, and EuphoricSound for the beta reading and hand-holding as I wrote this. :D Also, there's a bit at the end that I came up with while helping Sidhe with a fic, and it made both of us collapse in fits of feels. So we're both using a particular setting and line, just in case you read both and wonder who copied who. ;)

He pulled a gun on her when she slipped into his bedroom, but he put it away when she said his name. They're spies, assassins; they sleep with one eye open and a gun underneath the pillow. She expected that he would pull a gun on her. In fact, she would've been disappointed in him if he hadn't.

But when he realized it was her, he slipped the pistol back under his pillow and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. "You okay?" he asked, pushing himself up on one arm.

She didn't answer, because how could she explain it? That she was plagued by nightmares and had been ever since S.H.I.E.L.D. had deprogrammed her? That she hadn't slept more than three hours at a time in the last month? That she was exhausted and anxious and felt weaker than she ever had in her life, and she hated it so much? That she hated that the only thing she could think to do is go to him?

But there she was, standing in his bedroom in the dark, trying to figure out how to ask if she can crawl into bed with him.

Somehow he read it in her, maybe in her posture as she stood silhouetted against the door, and he flipped back his covers, moving over so she had room to slip into the other side of the bed. He didn't ask her any more questions, just lay back down, pulling the covers up over them both.

He left about a foot of space between them, and she was glad of the buffer. It gave her room to breathe, to relax, to finally fall into a dreamless sleep.

When she woke the next morning, they had both moved a little closer together--not touching, just closer.

***

On another occasion, she woke in the pale light just before dawn, her hand clasped in his. When she carefully pulled her hand away, he didn't wake, and she lay beside him, memorizing the planes of his sleeping face.

Her hand felt warm.

***

One morning, a few years later, she woke up in his bed. That in and of itself wasn't unusual--they often shared a bed for comfort or safety, depending on the circumstances.

What was unusual was that she was plastered against his side, her head on his shoulder, her arm thrown over his chest, and her leg tucked between his. His arm was around her shoulders and his other hand rested on her arm where it lay over him. His breathing was deep and even, and he was so warm, and she was startled not only by the fact that she was wrapped around her partner, but also that she was really, really comfortable.

When she pushed herself up on her elbow, he woke up, blinking in surprise at finding her in his arms, but when she tried to put some space between them, he caught her hand.

"I... you don't have to move," he said, as uncertain as she had ever heard him, "If you don't want to."

He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, and that made her melt a little bit, which then made her blush. A little grin sneaked across his mouth, and she rolled her eyes at him, fighting the smile that was trying to curve her lips.

"C'mere," he said softly, but she could hear the out in his voice; if she wanted to, she could move away and he wouldn't protest.

But the longer she stayed pressed against his side, the less she wanted to move away. She liked him, which was more than she could say about most of the people in her life. But even more than that, she trusted him, and there was an intimacy in that that was strange to her. It felt a little dangerous to trust him, but it also felt like another layer of armor, one more level of protection. She knew he would have her back no matter what, that he would keep her secrets and keep her safe, and she would do the same for him.

And anyway, he was attractive. She liked the physical part of being curled against him.

She settled back down, resting her forehead against his jaw, and sighed when he stroked his fingertips over the skin of her arm.

***

He fell, and all she could do was watch. The edge of the building was too far away, and all she could do was watch as he dropped from sight, his eyes seeking out hers. When she skidded to the edge, the distance between them was too far, much too far, and she couldn't reach across it to catch him.

A grappling hook skittered onto the roof beside her, its claws digging into the roof's rim and holding fast under his weight, and she thought her lungs would never draw a breath again. She pulled him up, inch by painful inch.

She was the one who closed the gap between them hours later, crawling on top of his body and sinking her hands into his hair. The kiss was desperate, and she slanted her mouth across his to get better access to his soft lips and hot tongue.

His hands drifted down her back to cup her ass, pulling her down against the growing hardness at his groin. Clothes were unceremoniously yanked off, naked skin pressed to skin, and then she sank down onto him, taking him into her body.

He held her face in his hands and her gaze with his eyes, and she gripped his shoulders with her hands and his cock inside of her. They moved perfectly as they always did, partners and confidants and friends and now lovers, everything in sync.

She swallowed his moans and he her sighs, and after they came together, they collapsed, skin on skin, not letting even an inch separate them.

***

There was no space between them.

She was locked in his arms, his weight pressing her down into the mattress, his face buried in her neck. Hands gripping his back, she twined her legs around his, arching up into him, throwing her head back to sigh her pleasure.

The only space between them was measured in breaths, when he lifted his face from the curve of her throat to kiss her lips. He slipped his arms underneath her shoulders, pressing her chest against his, because he obviously couldn't stand that distance between them any more than she could.

She didn't know how she survived before this, before she could wrap herself around him and feel the heat of his bare skin against hers. Well, it wasn't about survival, really. She could easily make it if she were to leave all of this, leave him behind, but she had somehow come to rely on this, on him. It was comfort and pleasure, a way to express emotions that she had never been comfortable putting into words.

She had never told him that she loved him, but he knew it anyway. Words weren't as important as actions for them, as touches and looks and the press of her lips to his.

In the afterglow, they lay on their sides, her leg over his hip, bodies pressed together from head to toe. His hand trembled just slightly when he stroked her cheek, and she turned her face into his touch.

She had been afraid that what had happened with Loki would drive a wedge between them. He wasn't back to his normal self yet--he was too quiet, too introspective--and she knew he was trying to swallow down guilt for things that weren't his fault. The only difference was in how he clung to her, the hint of desperation in the way he touched her. He was hurting, and she wanted to be a balm, wanted to soothe his pain. The thought sent strange warmth through her, knowing that he sought out comfort in her body, in the trust that they shared.

He had whispered to her as they helped each other into his apartment, whispered that he had broken that trust.

She had showed him that wasn't true.

"Tasha," he whispered, running his fingers through her hair, his eyes on her lips instead of her eyes, and she could see that he wanted to break, to fall apart after all that had been done to him.

"Ssh," she replied, closing the distance between their lips and quieting him with a kiss. "We'll put you back together."

His lips curved against hers, a tired little smile, and then they wrapped themselves up in each other, sharing their space in the muted gloom of his bed.

 

***

He sat in front of the café in Paris with two cups of coffee, and the distance between them dwindled to nothing when he caught her eye from across the street and smiled his crooked little smile at her.

Crossing the street was like taking a single step. When she took the seat across from him, squeezed into the crowded patio between tables overflowing with people, he reached out and took her hand in his.

Just like that, there was no space between them: no table, no cafe, no chattering crowd.

Looking down at their entwined hands, she let a little smile curve across her lips.

"I love you, you know," she said softly, and it felt like she had just plunged into the ocean, sinking deep under the suffocating weight of putting that much emotion into words.

When she looked up at him again, he was still smiling, and he rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand.

"This place is too crowded," he said, his voice low and warm, curling around her body like bathwater. "Let's go. Get some space. Just for us."


End file.
